


Blood Demons

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Curses, Hurt, M/M, Rescue, Romance, Temporary Character Death, Violence, lots of angst have i mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A curse reveals their true feelings...and also threatens to destroy them.</p><p>WRITTEN (partially): Jul. 2013<br/>Status: currently on indefinite hiatus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep Away

"The earthling. Is she…do you miss her?"

"You speak of Jane?"

"If that is her name, yes. Do you…think of her?"

"Think of her? Yes. I suppose I do. It would be strange not to wonder about old acquaintances on occasion. Why do you ask?"

"…Idle thoughts."

Silence ensued. Neither knew how to continue. With a nearly inaudible sigh, Loki turned and walked away.

"Wait."

Loki stopped, but he did not turn around, waiting wordlessly for whatever would follow, deeply afraid of confrontation. Because there were secrets - so  _many_  secrets - that he knew of and that Thor did not…secrets that could destroy everything they had built together.

"Loki. Loki, I…" Thor seemed hesitant.

"If perhaps these thoughts of yours are better hidden," said Loki tersely, "I suggest that you keep them so. It is not becoming of a future king to muse so long ab—"

"I want to speak with you," interrupted Thor.

"You  _are_  speaking with me."

"I am speaking  _to_  you, Loki. Whenever we talk now it is your back I see, not your face or your eyes that used to give me such….such sincere attention. Do you not feel a distance growing between us? A distance that you have forced-"

"It is all in your mind." With that, he walked away briskly, his quick steps warning Thor that conversation was no longer an option. He knew, however, that Thor was not one to observe social cues, and was not surprised to hear him taking a few steps to follow Loki. In response, Loki walked faster.

"Loki, why are you avoiding me?"

He walked faster still, cutting sharp corners and moving into a run as fear and desperation shot through his blood. But the heavy steps behind him did not grow softer, and Loki ran towards his room in a final sprint as he felt Thor's presence closing up the space between them.

"Loki! Please, stop!"

Fingers brushed upon Loki's shoulder, and the touch sent a jolt of pain through Loki's back, but he escaped into his room just before they reached him a second time. They both slammed onto the gilded doors at once, Thor on it, desperate to enter, and Loki against it, desperate to escape. The floor shook, as did they.

Thor rammed his palms against the doors. "Loki! Loki, please! I beg of you! Why do you avoid me so? What have I done, Loki? Answer me!"

Nothing but lonely echoes replied.

" _Loki_! Have I wronged you?" He thundered upon the door with the vain hope that he could force it open; but the palace of gods and goddesses stood until Ragnorak. "Speak to me, please!  _Why do you avoid me?"_

Seeing no hope, and having emptied his lungs of air and energy, Thor slammed one final fist into the doors, angry at himself for what had become of them. They had been good friends, and through the years Thor had secretly come to love and desire the pale, effeminate young god, and cared for the latter very, very much. It pained him to see the sudden, inexplicable change in their relationship. With a heavy heart, Thor walked away, thinking it better to let Loki have his way.

Within his room, Loki had slid against the doors onto the floor in a mess of silent tears and broken feelings. He had felt every slam of Thor's fist as if they were against his own ribs, and yet there was nothing he could do. Loki did not understand why he felt so, so terribly afraid at the prospect of Thor ever knowing, and why he  _cared_  so much about what Thor might think, but he tried to convince himself that it was simply due to his mind understanding that secrets, being secrets, were not meant to be told, even to good friends. Thor and Loki were friends – at least, on Loki's side, he tolerated the daft prince; it was only Thor who called them "friends" – and all had been quite well…

…Until Loki discovered he was cursed.

* * *

"Father. You knew."

Loki stood before Odin the King, who sat gravely and silently upon the ornate, dark golden throne. Through his one powerful eye he observed his second son.

"Why did you not breathe a word to me?" Loki asked, very quietly.

A long, heavy pause weighed in the air before the All-Father answered, as was his habit. "We suspected, your mother and I, but we did not know," he finally replied. "Even now, we do not know of its extent, nor of its severity."

"You are  _king_ , Father. The god of gods. If such knowledge is not in your possession then it could not exist."

"A king does not know everything."

"But you suspected. Why did you not  _tell_ me." It was difficult to keep the frustration out of his voice, and to keep it low, but nevertheless a slight tremble of pitch escaped his throat.

A murmur of an echo emanated from the smooth marble walls of the throne room. A conversation between two members of the royal Asgardian family mandated absolute privacy, and the guards that usually stood between the many pillars and beside the throne had vanished upon the presence of Loki, leaving the normally stern and strong hall a place of lonely, ghostly emptiness.

"We suspected…" began Odin gravelly. "But we knew that sorcery – dark sorcery of a most ancient kind – was involved. Such magic is not to be spoken about lightly. We believe even the Jotunns may not know of it, save the King and his closest of kin."

Loki waited for Odin to continue, alert for details that he had yet to discover about his condition.

"Do you know its name?" Odin asked.

"I can only wonder."

Odin nodded. "And so I. But your mother may know more about this, for she has far more knowledge about such things than I. We do not discuss this often because of the sensitive nature of your…curse, and it is one I strongly advise you to be aware of. Words have power, as you know."

"I do."

"You have, recently, been avoiding Asgardians. Although I am against such precautions, I see no other way about it. Do you now realize," added Odin suddenly, "why you and Thor receive different treatments from us? Please do understand that it was against our will." His deep, noble voice had turned very soft and tender. "You are my son, equal in all regards to Thor."

Parental kindness found little space in Loki's memories of Odin, and in this brief moment of fatherly affection, Loki felt a coat of warmth embrace his aching heart, alleviating the constant throb for a few moments. Unable to speak, moved as he was, he nodded in understanding.

A pause lingered before Odin spoke again. "Do you wish to tell me something else? Your…condition…has not worsened, has it?"

"O-oh, no, not by very much, at least," answered Loki, dazed at the sudden change of topic. "Although I can sometimes see them now…"

Odin looked grave. "I shall ask Frigga to renew her spell. It softens your symptoms immensely, but time seems to wear it out, and I fear there will come a day when Asgard can no longer be your home. That day will be far, but do be aware."

As Loki left the throne room and passed the files of guards walking back to reassume their positions, his once-heavy heart left a load behind. The colours of the palace seemed a little more vivid, the beams of sunlight through the palace windows seemed a little brighter, and the air, which had always seemed so stagnant, smelled a little sweeter than before. He had never realized how much he had feared that the lack of paternal attention was due to his true origins and curse, which he had only recently discovered. He had feared because history was not something he could change. Odin's words had, at least, made his gloomy days a little brighter.

* * *

Thor stalked the hallways, troubled. He was hardly ever troubled because of his carefree nature, but he was now, and it ate at him slowly, and irritatingly. A few passing courtiers glanced at him strangely, unused to seeing the Prince look as though he were thinking, but Thor ignored them.

Indeed, he hardly noticed what he was doing himself. It was uncertain whether he even knew he  _was_  stalking the halls, so preoccupied was his mind with Loki.

Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki.  _What is troubling you?_

Perhaps he should be aggressive. Knock on Loki's door, enter, and demand his attention. Or perhaps Thor should confess, push Loki's common senses off guard, and gather information during the confusion.

Ha.

Thor shook his head, ashamed of his foolish thoughts. Such plans were laughable and unworthy to occupy the mind of a future King. He had his hammer in his hand, which he twirled and flipped in his reverie, and he contemplated simply using it to break the doors of his unrelenting adopted brother to—

At that moment, Thor glimpsed Loki walking past a corridor at the far end of the hall. All previous thoughts disappeared as his joy in seeing his secret love once again in three entire days bloomed through his chest. Quietly, Thor followed him. He was surprised and not quite happy to see a soft smile alighting that lovely face, for why could  _he_  not put it there? Many people found Loki's pale skin and effeminate body to be a sign of weakness and poor health, but Thor saw nothing wrong with what he perceived a different sort of beauty. What strength Loki lacked in body he made up for in his mind, and the milky, smooth skin, intelligent emerald eyes and slight quirk of those thin pink lips brought Thor's heart aflutter like no one had ever had. Loki was a butterfly he could not catch.

Loki's path led them towards the bath houses. Thor wanted to make his presence known so that they may go together, but he knew that the chances of Loki assenting to such a good idea were slim, and he contented himself with distant watching.

Loki disappeared into a side room for a moment. He emerged several moments later wearing a white, slightly translucent bathrobe made of silky velvet. The sheer whiteness gave his pale skin a little colour, and Thor thought Loki never looked more beautiful than he did now in the rather revealing garment. Thor could not deny his effeminacy, because as Loki undressed to step into the warm waters by his toes, the way he slipped the soft material off his shoulders and let it float to the marble floor was more delicately done than the Goddess of Beauty herself could do, and the slow, deliberate movements were sensual beyond belief. His smooth and sculpted figure was slowly revealed as the bathrobe sighed to the ground, laying in a fluffy white cloud by his feet. It was all Thor could manage to keep breathing behind the pillar from which he spied.

The siren – Thor might as well call him that – slipped into the waters, head and all, making hardly a ripple, and rose a second later like a raven-haired mermaid. The sheen of water gave the pale skin it coated a definite glow which lured Thor like a bird to light.

Fortunately, he caught himself. If he stayed any longer, he may do something to their relationship that time could never amend, and so Thor quickly and quietly left the pool and the bathing beauty, and waited patiently by the lip of the bathhouse entrance for Loki to finish.


	2. Come Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally do the do. And then uh-oh.

Oh, he had fallen asleep!

The air was mild and warm, lightly scented with spring flowers and honey, and the sleepy afternoon sky had lulled him into a short nap. Thor sat up from beside the bushes and looked at the path to the bathhouse beside him. It showed light wet footprints that led out from the entrance back towards the palace, indicating them being just recently place there.

Thor got up and followed Loki's steps, irritated. If he had not fallen asleep, Thor could have caught him now and not have to worry about the door that he would most certainly have to fight with Loki to open.

But, ah. Loki's door was open. He was distressed for naught. Smiling quietly to himself, he tapped lightly upon the door and entered without waiting for a reply, sure that if he waited, he would not be admitted.

"Loki?" He called softly.

The effeminate god was still dressed in his translucent, silky bathrobe, brushing his hair before a mirror. Loki turned, startled, a look of terror passing briefly over the pale features.

Thor frowned. "Why do you fear me?"

"F-fear you?" scoffed Loki nervously. "Of course not. Are you daft? Why would I?" But it was evident from the slight trembling of the lips and fingers that Loki was, indeed, terribly apprehensive about something.

Worry and frustration battled within Thor's chest as he marched over, and continued to do so as Loki backed away, frightened, until Thor had him cornered against the wall. Loki dropped his comb on the floor, unable to conceal his anxiety any longer. And it was not just nerves that were frying inside Loki's body; his face, also, burned, because Thor was…Thor's face was…too close…

"What," began Thor gruffly, "are you hiding from me, Loki?"

Loki simply stared, his mouth dry.

The towering prince glared back, his lips tight. "You frustrate me. You are worrying about something, and you are afraid to tell me. Why? The last thing I would do is harm you, or scorn you. You know I can never do that. Don't you know that I…" he trailed off, his face softening. He began to lean in, unable to contain himself any longer while being so close to that fragrant skin, and Loki began to feel his hot, sweet breath upon his neck.

This jolted Loki back to coherent thought, but the proximity was making him dizzier than he liked. "I…Th-Thor, stop, please-"

"You've never answered why I should," Thor breathed. Then, Loki felt the warm lips brush against his skin.

"Oh!" he cried. A streak of pain shot down his arm from where he was kissed, and he winced in pain. Thor stepped back immediately, his eyes wide with confusion and concern.

"Loki? Loki, what's the matter?"

He shivered, and touched the spot where the pain had been. There was nothing, and he quickly looked at Thor, who seemed horrified at Loki's reaction. Fear pulsed through Loki's body for seemingly no reason –  _fear of what?_  he wondered angrily at himself – and it made him move, for more illogical reasons, involuntarily towards Thor in an inelegant hastiness while stuttering –  _stuttering!_ – the broken words, "I – no, that was…th-that was nothing! I was only…only…"

Loki fell silent, turning red with embarrassment. What  _was_  he only doing? He could not meet Thor's eyes. That was completely unlike himself, so unseemly and strange was the behaviour.

 _What do I want?_  Loki asked himself, puzzled.

From the corner of his eye, he saw one of Thor's arms lift slowly up towards his face. Even though his heart raced like a horse gone mad, Loki stood motionless in his spot, not out of fear but out of an inexplicable desire for the rough, callused hand to touch him, even though it could mean his death. With one gentle finger – for Thor suspected that perhaps Loki's skin was abnormally delicate – he traced a line down Loki's cheek and below the chin, which he lifted up. Their eyes met. A slow fire of exquisite pain followed the finger, but it was not an unpleasant fire; Loki could bear the touch, to his surprise; he could  _more_  than bear it; he leaned in unconsciously, asking for more. He could see the same fire reflected in the soft blue eyes of the god before him, and they grew larger as Thor carefully moved closer, to close the distance between their bodies…

 _Oh, how I want him,_ he realized, surprised _._ Loki bit his lips. How he  _wanted_ this love,  _so much_. But he knew he would pay dearly for submitting. Yet…his desire burned in his chest even as his skin burned from Thor's touches…

"Thor…we shouldn't…" he whispered pleadingly, unable in his helplessly excited state of mind to push Thor away. Thor's expert caresses – the prince must have had numerous lovers in his past, Loki thought jealously for a moment – manipulated his body as if it were a doll, and they both swayed towards Loki's bed and fell upon it in a messy heap. Loki protested weakly as he was sandwiched between the emerald covers and his lover.

Thor ignored him and buried his nose in Loki's hair and neck. Loki inhaled sharply at the not unpleasant pain that throbbed where he was touched. "You keep saying that," Thor murmured. "Why shouldn't we? I love you. I love you," he said again, stopping momentarily to gaze into Loki's eyes as he spoke those three, heart-stopping words, "and I know that you love me too."

"What?" Loki said, surprised and embarrassed. Even he could not admit this to himself without an internal fight; how could Thor know and say it so easily? "Whatever makes you say such a thing?"

The handsome prince grinned, his eyes twinkling with mirth. His blonde hair tickled Loki's cheeks. "Oh, I  _know_. How could I not?"

"Tell me," Loki demanded. "I have never… _shown_  anything to you. Or to myself, for that matter."

"Oh yes you have," he replied, chuckling softly. Once again, Thor leaned down, and he laid himself upon Loki like an enormous, muscular blanket which caressed his skin with a gentle rubbing that sent pleasant, hot shivers through Loki's senses. His breathy voice kissed the young god's ear.

"When you asked me about Jane Foster, the earthling," he breathed, "…was that not jealousy?"

_!_

Loki could not answer, shocked.

"Oh, how you blush," laughed Thor. He kissed the coloured cheeks and rubbed his nose against them. "You are as lovely as a maid when you do. How shall I make thee lovelier?"

The white velvet bathrobe was easily taken off. Thor's own leather outfit took more time, but soon he was pressing his warm torso against the pale, cool skin of Loki. He slid his hands down Loki's breasts and massaged the small hips, causing endearing little moans to escape the latter's lips.

"I…oh, Thor…oh…but we…we  _can't…_ "Loki protested weakly.

"Shh…"

"The…oh! Thor, you…but there are  _demons_ …in my blood…" He blurted, not caring any longer. Indeed, the warmth in his flesh from Thor's touches nearly seared his senses.

Thor cocked his head, confused. "Do you always speak nonsense when you make love?"

"W-what? No! My ancestor– mmph!"

Thor had smashed his lips down upon Loki's in a deep, passionate kiss to shut him up. "You're supposed to enjoy this," he said, "not to worry."

Loki bit his lips again, keeping silence. He did not want to drive Thor away, and so wordlessly submitted to a beautiful and glorious battle in a sensual Valhalla.

He blinked his eyes. Something very warm glowed within his chest, and Loki remembered what had happened.

He smiled to himself, wondrously happy. He could still feel the blush in his cheeks, and was grateful that it was his back, not his front, that faced Thor, who had his arms wrapped around the giddy god's chest in a tight embrace as they lay in bed. The heat from the prince's skin enveloped Loki's own in a cocoon of sensual warmth, and Thor's hot breaths that puffed into his neck from behind made Loki want to move his shoulder-length hair out of the way so that he may better feel them. Which he tried.

"Awake, my love?" came Thor's sleepy voice.

"Yes. Please don't call me that."

"Why not? As of now, you are."

Having no argument to oppose the statement, Loki simply said nothing and turned over in Thor's arms to face the prince. Thor loosened his arms a little, but he tightened them again as soon as Loki stopped moving.

"What is it?"

Loki did not answer. Thor's beard fascinated him and he ran his fingers through the downy mass of gold, slowly, cupping the noble face. He had always wanted to do that, secretly.

A deep rumble of a chuckle escaped the prince, for it tickled and amused him greatly. "Does my beard appeal to you? Why don't you grow one yourself? Shaving everyday must be such a task."

The young god looked up, startled. "Oh, I-I would, but…" he trailed off, embarrassed about a reason he had rather not say. Unconsciously, in his surprise, his hands slipped off Thor's face.

In response, Thor quickly took the migrating hands and placed them back on his own face. "Keep them here," he growled. Then he placed his hands back around Loki, where they had been. "Now tell me: why do you not grow a beard? Most Asgardian men do. There is no need to be embarrassed."

Loki gave a nervous chuckle. "Well…"

"Yes…?"

"You…well, I, er, know you love women, and if I…if I…" he muttered, wanting to stop. Oh, the bloody embarrassment! But Thor's eyes were unwavering and Loki was forced to continue under the powerful gaze. "If I were to appeal to you, a beard is not something you would find attractive. I-I mean, I know this now for certain because…because you called me a maid last night."  _And I was quite happy._  He flushed, terribly embarrassed beyond belief, and tried to turn away.

To his surprise, Thor laughed loudly, but not unkindly. It was a good-humoured belt. "You amuse me!"

Loki protested indignantly, growing crimson. "H-how so? That was not to make you laugh!"

"No, but to think that you were  _trying_ to appeal to me!" he continued to guffaw.

Oh, this was unbearable! A tad angry now, Loki struggled to leave Thor's arm, pushing against the muscular pectorals that had previously squeezed against his own. As thin as he was and being the God of Mischief, Loki easily escaped and clambered to get out of bed to find a place where he could sulk in peace.

"Ah- wait!" Thor reached out desperately to grab Loki's arm, all mirth gone. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Please don't…leave." Of course, against such a powerful grip as Thor's Loki could only stop – well, he did not truly want to leave anyways – and Thor embraced Loki, their bare skins merging as they did the night before.

Loki did not answer, still a little miffed, but his feelings were softened by the sincere apology in Thor's voice.

"I did not mean anything by that. That is…I mean to explain that your perception of having a beard amused me – because!" Thor emphasized quickly as Loki struggled to escape once more, "Because it could not matter what appearance you had. That is the extent of my love. I found it funny that you tried to appeal to me, because you didn't need to. I would have loved you anyways."

"Oh, you have a way with words…" Loki murmured, feeling shy.

"And you have a way with me."

They stayed like that for a several moments, Loki safe and warm in the arms of Thor, both brimming with quiet joy at their love finally being requited. The warmth within the Jotunn's chest now spread throughout his body.

_You shall pay…_

It was Thor who first stirred. "I suppose I must go now," he said, a little gloomy.

"Oh? So soon?" Loki asked.

Thor smiled reassuringly. "Don't make such a sad face. We see each other every day. But I have duties, as you know, and Father may be missing me."

"I suppose…"

Thor put on his clothes, which had been strewn on the floor. A quick check in the mirror seemed sufficient to the hasty prince, and Loki did not bother righting the endearingly messy appearance. "I'll come back soon, don't you worry." Thor leaned down to Loki, who still sat upon the bed, and gave him a last, gentle kiss on his lips, before leaving the room.

Loki took a deep breath, dizzy with happiness. He fell back upon his emerald covers, which still had Thor's warmth, to his pleasant surprise. The musky, earthly scent of the thunder god lingered upon the fabric as well, and Loki put his face upon—

But he never got to savour the scent one last time.

The warmth that was in his chest now began to  _burn._

Thor walked down the hall – or rather, he  _skipped_ , whistling, so full was his joy. Two courtiers passing him by glanced at him with bewildered faces, a little shocked at the carefree behavior of the grown prince. Well, Thor did not notice, and he did not care. Happiness rendered such things trivial that way.

As he skipped, he happened to catch a fleeting glimpse of the figure of his mother in a room that he had passed. Tracing back his steps, Thor peered into the room, which was Frigga's study, and saw his mother sitting at her ornate marble desk reading, intensely, a thick, dusty volume. Mother, like Father, was almost omniscient in terms of knowledge, and so Thor was very curious to know what it was that drove her to study, which she hardly ever needed or did.

"Mother?" He said.

Mother looked up. "Oh, Thor! What brings you here, love?"

"What are you reading?" He entered the room and sat on a chair placed by the marble desk, facing her.

"Oh…" she turned back to the book. "Jotunn sorcery. I asked Heimdallr if we had such a book, and we found it in our Ancient Library."

"Jotunn sorcery? What need have we for that?"

His mother seemed very uncomfortable and did not reply. This behavior, however, only served to arouse his curiosity further. The longer she took to reply, the more concerned he become, and mentally, he began wildly guessing at possible reasons, none of which could possibly benefit their kingdom. Leaning forward, he asked, "Mother? What is wrong?"

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes in resignation. "I suppose you would have to know one day."

Thor waited. One does not rush knowledge.

"If one traces back the lineage of Jotunn royalty," she began, "one would find a Jotunn princess named Gudrin. She was the most beautiful of her race, and was also considered a creature of beauty on Asgard. At this time, the hostile relations between the two worlds had already risen to a severe degree, so that none may travel freely between here and there, except perhaps the royalty."

He listened, not seeing the point, but this was rather early in the narrative anyway.

She continued. "It so happened one day, however, that on a diplomatic visit to Asgard, the princess, who was brought along by her father for the first time to observe Asgard, fell in love with the eldest Asgardian prince. The love became mutual. Of course the affair was hidden with great care, but such controversial actions of the royal families cannot possibly remain so for long. It was discovered, eventually, by an unwitting servant, and the two families declared that no member from either family – or world, for that matter – shall ever so much as touch a pebble of the other's territory. Needless to say, the hostilities reached a climax and the foundations for our present mutual hatred were set."

"But Loki…" Thor interrupted.

Mother put up a hand to silence him, implying that that information would come in time. "Gudrin was brought back to Jotunnheim by her father, screaming and kicking. The king and the queen, ashamed of their daughter's behaviour, locked her in her room for a time to let her cool her mind. But soon it was discovered that she was with child. A hybrid child.

"What could they do but kill the child? Such a child would never be accepted by the public as its ruler, nor would it even be accepted by society as a being; it would be treated as no more than a beast. It was killed by the king's own hands the moment after it was born,  _right before the eyes of the mother, his own daughter._  Gudrin went mad, understandably. She lost something inside herself that day.

"She did not have long to live. The birthing of the unfortunate hybrid-child caused heavy blood loss, and she herself had abandoned any hope to live. What could she live for? Her love was beyond reach; her child was dead; she could never live peaceably among the very people who took those two precious things away from her forever.

"As you know, Thor, most Jotunns are expert sorcerers. Gudrin was exceptionally skilled, even among her own people. Right before she passed away, in a fit of pure, wicked madness, she cast a spell that would affect all future generations that would come to rule Jotunnheim until Ragnorak. Even now, the spell cannot be lifted.

"That is what I have found about the spell in this book. Common Jotunns do not know this. Only those in the royal family does. This is very precious knowledge, Thor.  _Never_ repeat this to anyone."

"I…I understand, Mother," Thor vowed, intimidated by the sudden look of ferocity in her eyes. "But…"

"Yes?"

"What exactly are the symptoms of this spell, and how does it work?" Thor still did not see how it pertained to anything important. If Asgardian kings and queens ruled well for centuries without this knowledge, why should it be of use now, or in the future, as his mother said?

"You must remember that Gudrin was out of her wits when she cast that spell. What could be the one thought that dominated in her mind at that time?"

Thor thought for a moment. "Revenge?"

"Yes. Revenge. She cast it so that for every third generation of the royal family, only one child could be born to the royal family. That child will inevitably fall in love with an Asgardian. But  _this child cannot touch Asgardian flesh_. The book does not specify what would happen, but it mentions vaguely of terrible blood loss and burning, not unlike what Gudrin suffered. Of course, this child, if it were a girl, could not bear child with an Asgardian, because the mixture of the cursed Jotunn blood and the Asgardian blood would terminate the embryo the instant it was formed."

"Inevitably fall in love…?" mumbled Thor. Something vague yet sinister began forming at the back of his mind.

"Gudrin cast the spell in such a way that it became engrained in the strings of Fate. No cursed Jotunn seemed to have escaped it, according to this book." Mother flipped the pages she had read.

The thing at the back of his mind, though it did not clarify itself, grew even more disconcerting as it began to gnaw at his heart. What was it about Mother's narrative that so irked him? The nameless feeling frightened him. "Does this curse have a name?"

Mother looked at him. "It is called, 'Blood Demons'."

Blood…demons…?

"… _Thor…but there are_ demons _…in my blood…"_

" _My ancestor…"_

"Loki," Thor whispered, afraid, looking up to his mother as his fear suddenly took too clear a shape, hoping vainly for her to speak otherwise.

She smiled sadly, to his utter dismay. "Yes. That is why Laufey abandoned him. Loki is of Gudrin's direct descent, and happens to be – Thor? Thor, what in Asgard is the matter?!"

But Thor was already far from the room.


	3. Find Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor decides what to do.

_Please, please don’t let me be too late._

Thor sprinted for his life. Or rather, for Loki’s life. But the room where they had shared their pure love seemed so distant, and it seemed to him that a snail could run faster. Why could he not go _faster_.

_Loki…please hold on…I’m coming I’m coming…_

He could see the door now down the far end of the hall, still slightly ajar as he had left it. Courtiers yelled at him as he, in his haste, startled several and dangerously missed pushing a few to their deaths. As he drew nearer, a faint smell of iron touched his nose. A sinking feeling carved a whole in his chest, and the burning of his lungs from the run aggravated his already frenzied state of mind.

A few steps away now.

Two steps.

“Loki!” He screamed, barging into the room. He looked around wildly, and he was met with an utterly unspeakable sight.

Blood. Blood, everywhere, upon their love-bed. A crimson puddle was forming upon the marble floor, expanding as droplets trickled from the once-emerald covers, now brown. The bed seemed as if a massacre had occurred upon it, so saturated with red it was, were it not for the one mass of bloodied flesh that lay upon it, still.

Any less than the mind of Thor would have failed to live after such a sight. Even so, no words could Thor use to describe the absolute horror that engulfed his world at this dreadful moment.

He treaded softly, softly, towards the body, numb. The delicate beauty was no longer recognizable; a thick sheen of blood coated all visible flesh. Where Thor had touched him, he saw, the skin had burned and torn itself apart to make way for massive outpourings of blood, which still trickled in some places.

“Loki…Loki…?”

Of course Loki did not answer. If he was not dead from the blood loss, he was at least unconscious from the pain.

_What have I done?_

“Loki…?”

Thor began to weep. He stretched out a hand to wipe away the blood from Loki’s ravaged cheeks, but pulled it back just before touching, remembering that he could not touch him.

_No…no…_

He screamed his sadness out for the worlds to hear. This was unfair. He did not know; and perhaps Loki did not either. Was it so wrong that they loved each other? Why should their ancestors determine the fates of their descendants? Who are they to interfere with another’s life? His anger and sadness surpassed what can be expressed by any godly language, and the skies everywhere shook with deafening thunder and let loose a whirlwind of lightning. His anguish echoed throughout the palace, and all those who heard it felt the terrible grief within themselves.

His mother came running to Loki’s room with a few other servants who were nearby. “Thor! Thor, what is the matter? What is Loki –”

Thor did not hear the horrified gasps of the servants and did not feel his mother’s hand as she pushed him aside to assess the damage.  Nor did he hear his mother’s heartbroken, “Loki…oh…what have you done to yourself…”

The pain.

Absolutely unbearable…and yet, completely bearable. 

He would bear this a thousand times over for another sweet moment with Thor. He had _chosen_ this, knowing full well the consequences of being touched. He had been visited by Gudrin in a dream, so the fault was all his own.

After all, he would rather die happily like this than spend another day alone.

“What can I do?” Thor whispered.

Father sighed, and his mother would not look at him. Loki lay beside them on a clean bed, peaceful and barely alive. As he was a god, his body could not die. The medics had healed him perfectly without having to touch him. His soul, however, was free to wander.

“What can I do to bring him back?” Thor repeated.

“You can—” Mother began.

Father interrupted her. “No, Frigga,” he said. “It is simply too dangerous.”

“What?” Thor said, alert. “What? Tell me, Mother. Father, please.”

The one stern eye of his Father swiveled to him, and as it saw the determination and eagerness in his son’s face, it softened and relented. “If you must know, Loki’s soul is within Hel’s domain. It might be possible to persuade her to let him return.”

Without another word, Thor began to walk out of the room.

“Wait! Son, where are you going?” Father grabbed his shoulder.

“I’m going to save Loki now.”

“It is too dangerous.”

“I am responsible for this.”

“No, you are not. You did not know. And neither did Loki of the exact consequences.”

“I do not care, Father, for danger. This _must_ be done.”

“I advise ag—”

“What is it with you, Father?” Thor said angrily, brushing the hand away. “You have never cared much for Loki. Why is that? He pines for your affections! How can you not _see_? You did not drink from Mimir’s Well for _nothing._ ”

“Thor, I do not want to lose another son—”

“A son who killed the other? _I_ cannot live with such a grave burden upon my conscience. And I love him, father.”

“Son—”

“Oh, let him go, Odin,” cried Mother suddenly. “He will not rest until he does.”

Conflicting emotions played upon Odin’s sage-like features. For a long time he considered, and Thor held his defiant gaze. At last, he said, wearily, “You may go.”


	4. What Have I Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor makes up his mind

 

_Please, please don’t let me be too late._

Thor sprinted for his life. Or rather, for Loki’s life. But the room where they had shared their pure love seemed so distant, and it seemed to him that a snail could run faster. Why could he not go _faster_.

_Loki…please hold on…I’m coming I’m coming…_

He could see the door now down the far end of the hall, still slightly ajar as he had left it. Courtiers yelled at him as he, in his haste, startled several and dangerously missed pushing a few to their deaths. As he drew nearer, a faint smell of iron touched his nose. A sinking feeling carved a whole in his chest, and the burning of his lungs from the run aggravated his already frenzied state of mind.

A few steps away now.

Two steps.

“Loki!” He screamed, barging into the room. He looked around wildly, and he was met with an utterly unspeakable sight.

Blood. Blood, everywhere, upon their love-bed. A crimson puddle was forming upon the marble floor, expanding as droplets trickled from the once-emerald covers, now brown. The bed seemed as if a massacre had occurred upon it, so saturated with red it was, were it not for the one mass of bloodied flesh that lay upon it, still.

Any less than the mind of Thor would have failed to live after such a sight. Even so, no words could Thor use to describe the absolute horror that engulfed his world at this dreadful moment.

He treaded softly, softly, towards the body, numb. The delicate beauty was no longer recognizable; a thick sheen of blood coated all visible flesh. Where Thor had touched him, he saw, the skin had burned and torn itself apart to make way for massive outpourings of blood, which still trickled in some places.

“Loki…Loki…?”

Of course Loki did not answer. If he was not dead from the blood loss, he was at least unconscious from the pain.

_What have I done?_

“Loki…?”

Thor began to weep. He stretched out a hand to wipe away the blood from Loki’s ravaged cheeks, but pulled it back just before touching, remembering that he could not touch him.

_No…no…_

He screamed his sadness out for the worlds to hear. This was unfair. He did not know; and perhaps Loki did not either. Was it so wrong that they loved each other? Why should their ancestors determine the fates of their descendants? Who are they to interfere with another’s life? His anger and sadness surpassed what can be expressed by any godly language, and the skies everywhere shook with deafening thunder and let loose a whirlwind of lightning. His anguish echoed throughout the palace, and all those who heard it felt the terrible grief within themselves.

His mother came running to Loki’s room with a few other servants who were nearby. “Thor! Thor, what is the matter? What is Loki –”

Thor did not hear the horrified gasps of the servants and did not feel his mother’s hand as she pushed him aside to assess the damage.  Nor did he hear his mother’s heartbroken, “Loki…oh…what have you done to yourself…”

The pain.

Absolutely unbearable…and yet, completely bearable. 

He would bear this a thousand times over for another sweet moment with Thor. He had _chosen_ this, knowing full well the consequences of being touched. He had been visited by Gudrin in a dream, so the fault was all his own.

After all, he would rather die happily like this than spend another day alone.

“What can I do?” Thor whispered.

Father sighed, and his mother would not look at him. Loki lay beside them on a clean bed, peaceful and barely alive. As he was a god, his body could not die. The medics had healed him perfectly without having to touch him. His soul, however, was free to wander.

“What can I do to bring him back?” Thor repeated.

“You can—” Mother began.

Father interrupted her. “No, Frigga,” he said. “It is simply too dangerous.”

“What?” Thor said, alert. “What? Tell me, Mother. Father, please.”

The one stern eye of his Father swiveled to him, and as it saw the determination and eagerness in his son’s face, it softened and relented. “If you must know, Loki’s soul is within Hel’s domain. It might be possible to persuade her to let him return.”

Without another word, Thor began to walk out of the room.

“Wait! Son, where are you going?” Father grabbed his shoulder.

“I’m going to save Loki now.”

“It is too dangerous.”

“I am responsible for this.”

“No, you are not. You did not know. And neither did Loki of the exact consequences.”

“I do not care, Father, for danger. This _must_ be done.”

“I advise ag—”

“What is it with you, Father?” Thor said angrily, brushing the hand away. “You have never cared much for Loki. Why is that? He pines for your affections! How can you not _see_? You did not drink from Mimir’s Well for _nothing._ ”

“Thor, I do not want to lose another son—”

“A son who killed the other? _I_ cannot live with such a grave burden upon my conscience. And I love him, father.”

“Son—”

“Oh, let him go, Odin,” cried Mother suddenly. “He will not rest until he does.”

Conflicting emotions played upon Odin’s sage-like features. For a long time he considered, and Thor held his defiant gaze. At last, he said, wearily, “You may go.”


End file.
